Reunions and Rescues
by oneaquaberry
Summary: Aelin has returned to Wendlyn seeking the third Wyrdkey, but saving Aedion came first. Set post Heir of Fire and following the three chapters of Queen of Shadows released in "12 Books You Can't Miss at BookCon 2015"
1. Chapter 1

**Follow me on Tumblr at maelec**

 **All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas**

 **This is my first fic, so we'll see how this goes...**

...

Aedion Ashryver had gotten used to the cold and confining cell that he had been residing in for the past few weeks. His wrists and feet always felt tight (the guards not giving him any leeway with the shackles), and the scent of his excrements overpowering. But he knew that it didn't matter-not when he was going to die in three days. Aedion had heard, with his sensitive Fae ears, the guards talking about him. Well not about him, but her. Aelin. His queen, the one person that he was supposed to protect with his life. Aedion had heard things that he did not want to hear-things that had changed everything.

Once, he had thought that he would die alone-without Aelin or his Bane or even the Captain by his side-and he had accepted his fate. He had let her go when he had offered himself up to save the captain. Aedion did not regret his decision.

But Aelin…this whole thing was a trap for Aelin. The King was going to use him to get to Aelin. To capture his queen and to and kill her. And while Aedion did not doubt Aelin's skill as a warrior, the King of Adarlan was in another league entirely.

For he knew his cousin. He knew that she would sacrifice everything to save him-just like he would have done for her. And he knew that her death would be on his hands.

The guards pushed his evening bowl of slop and water into the cell. They always avoided looking at him, and he had given up studying their features and thinking up ways of killing them and escaping. Numbly, Aedion picked up the bowl and pulled it to his mouth. He ate the tasteless slop methodically and drank the water-laced with sedatives. He had given up refusing to drink the water. He had felt so, so thirsty and after a few bowls of that slop, he had practically drowned the water in a single swallow. Aedion could feel the sedatives slowly kicking in. He opened himself up, offering himself to the lull of the sedative, the lull of sleep. He was so, so tired. Only three days to go.

* * *

After gutting and beheading the four men in black uniforms, their remains and blood scattered in the vaults, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was feeling much better. Aelin had wiped off the blood soaking Goldryn, and sheathed him at her waist. Her gloves were drenched in blood, and Aelin tossed them onto the body of a beheaded guard as a farewell gift. She was ready to confront Chaol.

Arobynn had mentioned that Chaol had headed towards the southern section of the vault tunnels, and Aelin did not doubt his words. Arobynn may have ulterior motives for his actions, but he knew the structure of the vaults better than anyone-even better than Aelin herself, though she hated to admit it.

By now, the noise and the fights had started again. Hesitantly at first, but the men (and women) who frequented this place were used to violence and killing. So Aelin Ashryver Galathynius lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and sauntered off towards the door atop the stone stairs. No-one stopped her.

Aelin threw open the door, and the smell hit her immediately. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Oh, how she wished Rowan was here, his pine-and-snow scent a welcome distraction. He would probably laugh if she knew she needed to smell him. Hell, he would probably whoop her ass if she dare let a disgusting smell stop her. Aelin shook her head, and shut the door with a loud clank.

Aelin walked through the cold tunnel, wishing that magic still worked in Adarlan. She was sick of the cold, and she had barely walked for five minutes. She had better see Chaol soon, or else she was going kill him for making her walk in the freezing cold. Aelin was getting worried that Chaol had already left the tunnels, which would have talking to Chaol harder. Not impossible, but harder.

It was another five gruesome minutes until Aelin finally heard voices. One female-the guard-and two male. Chaol, and someone else. An ally, perhaps? It wasn't until she was close enough to make out their features-though they of course could not see her-that she recognised him. It was the man with the twin swords that had captured Chaol that day. The man with Archer Finn-the one with the unchecked anger and aggression. The one there on the day Nehemia had died.

Aelin could feel her blood boiling inside her skin. Why was Chaol-Chaol!-talking to him? She couldn't understand, or even dream up, a reason why the man and Chaol were talking and not fighting. Though she could not hear what was being said, and even though both the man and Chaol seemed tense, they appeared to be friends.

Aelin would demand answers from Chaol. Right after she gutted the man and left his corpse to rot in this godsforsaken tunnel. Unsheathing Goldryn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius strode towards Chaol, his guard, and the man, the promise of violence and death in her Ashryver eyes.

* * *

Chaol had been tense the whole way to meeting Ren in the tunnels. It didn't help that Nesryn kept looking over her shoulder every five seconds either. Chaol had met Nesryn four days ago, when she came to Adarlan to join Ren and Murtaugh. She was supposed to be guarding Murtaugh, and since Murtaugh was away, she had taken to accompanying Ren and Chaol when they were away from Celaena's apartment.

"No-one's following," said Nesryn, as she threw another cautious glance over she shoulder. Chaol nodded, and continued walking, picking up speed.

Nesryn had taken to walking two steps behind him and Ren at all times, and at first it had been annoying. But Chaol was used to it now, and it was comforting knowing that someone was watching his back.

When they finally saw Ren, Chaol almost sagged in relief.

"Any trouble?" asked Chaol as Ren sheathed his blades.

"Avoided some guards on my way here," said Ren. "They were heading towards the vaults."

Chaol stiffened, but it was Nesryn that replied. "We didn't see any guards when we were meeting with Arobynn Hamel."

Ren tensed. "Do you think they were following us?"

Chaol shook his head. They were discrete while heading here, and he was sure that they hadn't left a trail. But if they were being followed…

"We should go soon," said Nesryn, her brown eyes taking in everything in their surroundings. Which, at this point, were just some stone walls.

"How was the meeting, by the way?" asked Ren. "Did Arobynn tell you why he wanted to meet?"

Chaol's felt anger rising up inside him at the memory of Arobynn. He had been sitting in front of Celaena's old mentor-the one that had hurt her and killed Sam-and he couldn't kill him. Oh, he had itched to jam Demaris into Arobynn's stomach and watch him bleed slowly to death. But he knew that Arobynn's guards would be beside them before he even unsheathed Demaris, and well, Arobynn wasn't the King of the Assassins for nothing. Chaol didn't know if he and Nesryn could live through the fight if he had given in to his brashness.

"Not very well," Chaol admitted. "He wanted to know about Aelin-if we could help him get into contact with her."

"And Aedion?" asked Ren. "Did you find out anything of use?"

Chaol shook his head. This whole trip was a waste. A complete and utter waste of their time. Arobynn had been playing them, fuelling Chaol's anger, and he had fallen for it. Fool.

"Chaol," hissed Nesryn. Chaol looked up. Ren and Nesryn had already drawn their swords, taking their position beside him. Chaol unsheathed Demaris, turning to face whatever threat was lurking in the tunnels.

What he saw almost made his heart stop. Though she had red hair only reaching to her collarbones, Chaol would recognise her anywhere. Lean, with turquoise eyes ringed with gold. Those eyes were flashing with murder and rage. Celaena.

She was not wearing the ring. Chaol had not expected that one thing to hurt so much-especially since so much time had passed since Celaena had left for Wendlyn. But seeing her finger-bare, without an imprint that hinted that she had just taken it off-broke Chaol. Just a little. He still loved her, and knowing that Celaena was Aelin did not change that. Even after knowing she was returning as Aelin, not Celaena, and knowing that he should have let her go, he still couldn't.

"Stop. Celaena, I can explain. Put down your sword." Chaol. It had been a while, but hearing his voice almost made Aelin stop in her tracks. Though Aelin no longer loved Chaol, at least not in that way, she couldn't deny the rush that flowed through her.

"What are you doing with him?" she asked through gritted teeth. He had better have a good explanation, or else. The man was looking at her with a shell-shocked expression. So he recognised her. Good.

"Ren is on our side, Celaena," said Chaol in a calm tone. "He has been working with me and Aedion when you were away in Wendlyn."

Aedion. Chaol…he had talked with Aedion. Were they friends?

"What is going on here?" burst out Ren. "Why is the King's Champion here in the tunnels? Isn't she meant to be in Wendlyn…"

And then it clicked. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was in Wendlyn when she killed General Narrok. Celaena Sardothian was sent to Wendlyn to assassinate the Wendlyn royal family. Chaol had known so much about Aelin, and had kept it secret from him and Murtaugh. Because…because…

Celaena Sardothian-Aelin-smiled at him, and it sent shivers up his spine. He had tried to kill his queen. Numbly, Ren sank to his knees.

 _..._

 _ **Don't forget to review/fave/follow :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**So exams are finished, and I decided to write another chapter...I hope you enjoy :)**

...

It had been exactly two weeks and one day-fifteen days, five hours and twenty three minutes-since Aelin had left for Adarlan. Not that he was counting, of course. Oh, Rowan knew exactly why Aelin had to leave him behind: his fae heritage would have been a fluorescent marker setting him apart. And he would die before stooping as low as eating _rats_ to survive. He was an immortal, and he had standards. He wasn't the _carranum_ of Fireheart, the Queen of Terrasen for nothing. He just needed to get back her throne.

So after sitting on his ass for exactly one day, he had gotten fed up with waiting and decided that he did, in fact, want to help repair Mistward. That had taken him two weeks. And now here he was, bored out of his immortal mind, and waiting for Luca to come back with a message from Varese, the hometown of House Ashryver. Rowan wasn't expecting any help from the royal bastards, but Emrys had pleaded with him to ask for aid. He claimed that Aelin needed allies. He claimed that the Wendlyn royal family would help if it meant dethroning Adarlan once and for all. And he claimed that Rowan was being a selfish arrogant bastard for refusing to see the truth.

Rowan had almost punched Emrys there and then, but he had participated in enough battles and campaigns to know that Emrys was right. When your enemy had access to two wyrdkeys, Valg princes and a large ruthless army, you had to lift up your game. Rowan and Aelin needed all the powerful allies that they could find, even if it came in the form of a cowardly family that had refused to help when their Terrasen relatives were being butchered.

His hawk circled around Mistward, helping with the patrolling, and waiting for Luca's ass to arrive. Rowan chided himself for not going instead. They had argued about it for days, but Luca, Emrys and Mikhail had all agreed that Rowan would probably rip out their royal throats if the Ashryver's had angered him. Rowan disagreed, but Luca kept talking, and talking, and talking. It was so annoying that Rowan simply agreed to shut him up. Luca had smiled, and Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that he had been played by a sixteen year old boy.

Rowan wished Aelin was here. She was always better with people than he was. And recently, Rowan had started to feel an emptiness inside his soul, one that he suspected was due to his separation from _her_. He still found it strange, waking up and not feeling Aelin beside him, not hearing her sleepily murmur to him to let her stay in bed for just a _minute_ longer. Rowan could feel the part of his soul that was tethered to her call out, agonizing from its separation from its other half. He had not felt like this for centuries, not since Lyria had died. The similarity between his bond with Lyria and what he now felt with Aelin confused him. To be honest, it scared the hell out of Rowan too.

His hawk squawked, the keen eyes spotting Luca, at last, from overhead. Shifting into his fae form, Rowan hurried to greet Luca.

* * *

He was lost. Lost to the shadows, to the wind, to the ice. Ice…yes, he could remember the ice once. Freezing the world, and the panic…he had destroyed everything, and no-one was there to see it. No-one except…her. She should have been revolted, should have felt fear, the same deep cut-throat fear that froze his mind, his body, his soul. That same fear he could feel ripping him apart now, exploiting and controlling. Yes, she had loved him, and now she was gone. He felt hollow…empty. Nothing could compare to the hurt of that loss, because no loss could ever be that great, that haunting.

And so the thing inside of him took control, seeing through him, using him. He didn't care…he couldn't bring himself to care. Not even when the thing and him moved through innocents like they were grass, and he was a wild fire, igniting them, burning them out. He could feel the warm blood on his hands, on his body, as the thing and him killed and leeched on life. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. And he found it disgusting, so, so disgusting, that he felt a pinch of pleasure from the acts. They were the only reprieve that he could find from the bitter melancholy, the deep tear in his soul, and the oblivion that he had fallen so deeply into.

* * *

"…Isn't she meant to be in Wendlyn?" The man with the shoulder length dark hair, the one there on the day Aelin had _snapped_ faltered. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head; practically see him putting the puzzle pieces together. He knew who she was. Aelin smiled, vicious and full of promise. _I will kill you._ The man sank to his knees.

Aelin studied the man, taking in the brutal looking scar that decorated the length of his cruel looking face. _Adarlan will do that to a person_. "My queen," he whispered, staring at Aelin's eyes. _Ashryver eyes, of brightest blue, ringed with gold._

Aelin glared at Chaol, demanding answers. "Celaena…Aelin, this is Ren Allsbrook."

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius lowered Goldryn, and sheathed him at her waist.

Ren Allsbrook. The name sounded familiar. Aelin remembered an Allsbrook…from Terrasen. Ren…Ren was from Terrasen. The slight tilt of his eyes, the grim unsmiling mouth. That was all that remained of the Ren that Aelin had known from her childhood. The spoilt, annoying bastard. And yet, here he was. And so was she.

Here was a man that had survived the Terrasen butchering, had joined up with the rebels and had fought against Adarlan's rule. Aelin had almost killed an ally. She would not forgive Ren for his involvement in Nehemia's death, but she could not ignore someone from one of Terrasen's royal houses either.

"Ren, this is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. The rightful queen of Terrasen."

* * *

They wound up at Aelin's old apartment, the one she had shared with Sam. Being back here brought back memories, both good and bad. There was the couch that Sam had kissed her so fiercely on, the very same couch that Arobynn had sat in when he had delivered his gut-wrenching news. _I'm so sorry Celaena_. But he wasn't sorry. It was all his fault, and one day, he would pay. Aelin would be the one to do it-gutting him, skinning him, bringing him closer to hell with every single painful second. Oh, it would be gloriously long, without any gloriella to numb the pain. And Aelin would enjoy every moment of it.

The apartment looked pretty much the same since the last time Aelin had seen it, and yet it _felt_ different. It felt _lived in_ and smelt of people that she knew, and yet didn't. Yes, that was her precious teacup, and was that...

Fleetfoot ran towards her, she golden fur a blur as she jumped onto Aelin's body and knocked her onto the ground. Aelin laughed as Fleetfoot licked her face-excitedly and desperately, as if she was afraid Aelin would leave her again.

They clung to each other, the queen and her dog; both joyful at their reunion, as if a missing part of their souls were complete again. It was the first time Aelin Ashryver Galathynius had felt true happiness since she had left Rowan and stepped onto the shores of Adarlan.

Later that night, Aelin snuck through her apartment, trying not to wake Ren up. She needed to speak with Chaol-alone and without Ren eavesdropping throughout the entire conversation. Aelin crept to the couch that Chaol was asleep in, and tapped him softly on the shoulder. He was instantly awake, his hands reaching for Demaris beside him. "Shhh," Aelin whispered. "I need to talk to you."

Chaol gave Aelin a sceptical look. "It's the middle of the night, Celaena. Some people need their beauty sleep."

Aelin glared at him, and Chaol sighed. "Where do you want to go?"

 _Where do you want to go?_ It was such a simple question. Where would Aelin take the man that she had once loved? Where was a good place to give him back his ring, and to tell him that they would no longer work? Certainly not to her bedroom: that was too intimate. But they couldn't talk here, and outside was out of the question. Not the bathroom, nor the kitchen, or godsforbid-the closet. Bedroom it was, then.

* * *

Chaol followed Celaena into her bedroom. He felt weary, and worried. Why did Celaena wake him up in the middle of the night? What was so important that Celaena couldn't wait until tomorrow to tell him? Celaena sat on her bed, her blue satin night gown a surprising contrast to the purple of the bed sheets. Fleetfoot jumped onto her lap, and Celaena stroked her fur softly. Celaena pointed to the chair, and Chaol carried it from beside Celaena's desk, and placed it in front of the bed. He sat opposite Celaena, waiting.

Aelin brought out the ring that she had been fingering on the trip back to Adarlan. The amethyst ring that Chaol had given her on Samhuinn, it's presence both a comfort and a reminder of what she had lost and gained since meeting him and Dorian at Endovier that day. She had debated over what she would say to Chaol once she had returned. She decided that she would have to get it over with sooner, rather than later. Why delay the inevitable?

"Chaol," she began, slowly stroking Fleetfoot's fur. "I know that it wasn't your fault that Nehemia died."

Chaol froze. Was this what the nightly waking was about?

"But what happened…it changed me. I know you cared for me, and I cared for you. I still do."

 _I love you_ , Chaol wanted to scream. _I love you Celaena. Please stop. Stop, stop, stop._ It was the moment Chaol had been expecting and dreading ever since he had sent her to Wendlyn. He knew deep down that Aelin would never choose him, and he had come to terms with it. But hearing it from her own mouth…

Chaol opened his mouth. "My trip to Wendlyn, my experiences there…" Aelin continued, before Chaol could argue. Rowan's face flashed in Aelin's mind, and she could feel him here, urging her to continue. "I changed…for the better. And I realised that what we had…it was special, but…"

Aelin paused, her mouth suddenly dry. She had run out of words to say. She didn't know how to express feelings that she couldn't come completely to terms with. Not yet. Silently, Aelin leaned over and returned the amethyst ring back to Chaol.

...

 ** _I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review/fave/follow :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

**As always, all characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas. I hope you enjoy :)**

...

Chaol stared at the ring, the silver surface scratched and worn. "Celaena…It's yours. I can't take it back." Chaol handed the ring back to Celaena, hoping, desperately hoping, that this was a sick, twisted joke. Yes, this was a nightmare, all of this. He would wake up, and find Celaena in his bed, smiling up at him.

"It's Aelin."

Those two words were like an arrow through his heart. He felt it shatter, and break into a million little pieces-like glass, broken and impossible to repair. Those two words broke the tiny ribbon of hope that Chaol still kept in his heart, shoved deeply inside these past few months. She was no longer Celaena Sardothian, Adarlan's Assassin and the King's Champion. Those foolish daydreams about running away with her, marrying her, having children with her…gone. They were never possible in the first place.

For she was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, and Chaol was no longer the Captain her heart.

"You said that it would be me. That it would always be me… Don't you remember Aelin? Or was that a lie?"

Aelin looked at Chaol, at the man that she once loved so deeply and fiercely, that she had killed an entire warehouse of rebels to save him. Would she do it again? Of course, just like she would do for Dorian, Aedion, and anyone else that she loved. But Chaol…he had broken her so deeply that she could no longer see him the same. Her soul was no longer connected to him-their threads were not linked for eternity.

"I will always love you, Chaol. But although Celaena was your soul mate, I can't love you in that way anymore. I'm sorry." Aelin tried to say it gently, but she had to make sure that Chaol knew that they no longer had a future together.

Aelin watched Chaol clench his fists tightly, pick up the amethyst ring, and leave her room quietly. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius did not sleep well that night.

Chaol barely managed to hold himself together after he hurried out of Aelin's room. He wanted to cry, shout, and scream at the world, at the gods, at the King. Dorian. What happened to Dorian? Chaol had not heard word from the castle or from Dorian himself about what happened after he and Ren escaped from the castle. He was so selfish, moping after Aelin, when his friend-his King-could be dead. No…the King would not have killed Dorian, would he? Chaol had to hope…for the alternative…

"I'm so sorry, Chaol." Ren was leaning against the wall next to the couch where Chaol was sitting. Chaol jumped, and then turned his back towards Ren. "I was so looking forward to you being my king." Ren sighed heavily, watching Chaol carefully for a reaction. "Ah well. It's not every day you get discarded by the queen of a country. You know, I bet she met someone new over in Wendlyn. They probably-"

"Ren. Shut. The. Hell. Up," spat Chaol through clenched teeth. Chaol could feel his blood boiling in his veins, could feel his body turn towards Ren, and his fist connecting with Ren's face.

Ren was so shocked when the punch came towards his jaw that he did not have enough time to block. He could feel ringing in his head, and see a flash of colour in his eyes. Then pain-sharp and expanding, from his jaw, to his cheeks, to his head. Ren could feel the blood rushing to his face as he turned to face the Captain, ready to finish what the Captain had started.

Ren froze at what he saw. Chaol was slumped in the couch, his head in his hands. He looked broken and vulnerable. Sighing, Ren walked over to Chaol, and sat next to him. Ren placed a comforting hand on Chaol's shoulder. He could feel Chaol stiffen under Ren's touch

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to help you feel better."

Chaol looked up, and Ren swore that he could see a small tear run down Chaol's face. They stared at each other, the two rebels, each from enemy countries, yet united by belief and cause. Chaol looked away first.

"The worst thing was," Chaol found himself saying, "Was that I knew this was coming. I had prepared myself. And it still hurt anyway." Chaol shook his head, trying to clear it from thoughts of Aelin, the Queen that was never his, and Dorian, his King, whom he had failed.

Ren did not know what to say. He had never faced that kind of rejection-his time with the rebels had not left time for romance.

"And Dorian… What are we going to do about Dorian?"

Ren did not know. They were so small, their group. Ren, Chaol, Aelin, Nesryn and Murtaugh. How were they going to rescue Aedion and Dorian from that Adarlanian bastard?

"I don't know, Chaol."

Those words struck Chaol deeply, filled with the same desperation and hopelessness that Chaol now felt. They were both so lost, and yet they still had each other, still suffered together. They both reached for each other at the same time.

They hugged each other tightly, allowing the other to share their burden, and finally finding a brother in each other.

* * *

Rowan strode towards the two megaliths that Luca was entering through-the wards that protected the fortress from the evils of the outside. The evils that he knew all too well. _Aelin, almost dead, giving in to the Valg princes. And then…she was out, exhausted, her hair short, walking towards him. Rowan running…_ No. She was safe now. Safe, he told himself repeatedly. Every damn day.

Luca looked wary from the days of travel. His face and hands were a grimy brown, his body showing signs of exhaustion and wear. Rowan sniffed, taking in Luca's scent, and almost vomited in disgust. Luca smelt like shit.

Luca let out a tired laugh. "I picked up a rather expensive perfume on my way here. Do you like the smell?"

Rowan gave Luca a pointed look. _Hurry up, and tell me,_ it seemed to say.

Luca grinned widely, and handed a sealed envelope to Rowan. Rowan could sense Mikhail and Emrys walking towards him, both excited and relieved to see Luca back safely. Well, Rowan's nose would never recover, so he was glad two other fae would be lucky enough to experience the scent for themselves.

Rowan ripped open the letter as Mikhail and Emrys reached Luca and pulled him into a tight embrace. They looked like a happy family, their members finally reunited at last. Rowan felt a tingling at his palms, the bond that he made with Aelin a constant reminder that he wasn't alone.

"You smell like horseshit Luca," muttered Mikhail as the three of them drew apart.

"What did you do, roll around in a barn?" Luca rolled his eyes at both Emrys and Mikhail, and then sighed.

"It was a long trip, and I haven't bathed in days."

Emrys looked horrified. "Don't tell me you had your meeting with the Wendlyn royal family smelling and looking like that?"

"I bathed before the meeting." Luca gave Emrys a sly grin. "If I didn't, I probably would smell worse."

Thank the gods for the small miracles, thought Rowan, as he read the letter.

 _Rowan Whitethorn,_

 _We are deeply sorry for our inability to assist you and the rest of the demi-fae against General Narrok's attack. After hearing about your success and the success of our living relative, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, we cannot withhold our assistance any longer. Our family and the people of Terrasen will have House Ashryver's support in the upcoming battle with Adarlan, and all the aid that it entails. Our House will be open for the planning and strategizing for our upcoming attack on Adarlan. We hope to see you again soon._

 _Signed,_

 **Galan Ashryver**

Rowan looked up and found Luca grinning up at him. Rowan shook head, smiling. "Go and get cleaned up, Luca. We leave for Varese tomorrow."

* * *

"You can't go alone, Aelin. Let me come with you," said Chaol though gritted teeth.

"No. I grew up with Arobynn. I know him. It's safest if I go alone." They had being arguing for hours, ever since Nesryn had entered with a letter from Arobynn, asking to meet with Aelin _at her earliest convenience at her old home._ Aelin felt like shoving the letter down Arobynn's throat. The Assassin's Keep had not been Aelin's home for over two years-ever since she had moved here with Sam. It seemed Arobynn liked to forget that when it suited him.

Nesryn had swapped shifts with Ren, who was now on patrol. Aelin knew that Chaol had barely held it together when he and Arobynn had _conversed_ in the Vaults, and this time, with all the tension in the air, it would be worse. Aelin could feel it in her bones.

"You are the Queen of Terrasen, and the King is hunting you, just waiting to spill your blood on Nothung. Just waiting to spear your head, and parade around with it on a pike."

Aelin gave Chaol a dry look. "I'll be careful. I know what I'm doing, Chaol. I don't need you to protect me."

"Believe me, I know. I just thought that you would like to avoid getting yourself killed before this rebellion of yours has even begun." Chaol and Aelin glared at each other, the tension between them thickening, almost a living and sentient being.

Sighing heavily, Nesryn spoke for the first time that day. "I'll go with Aelin."

Chaol and Aelin both turned their glares towards her. "You need someone to stay with you and watch your back. I can do that."

Aelin watched Nesryn carefully. She didn't know Nesryn that well-the woman had barely spoken, except to say that she would keep watch. Although Ren and Chaol had both sworn that Nesryn was trustworthy and on their side, how could Aelin know if Nesryn would betray them? Yes…if Nesryn was with her, Aelin could observe her, watch for signs of betrayal, and ensure her loyalty to their group. Plus, she wouldn't be with Chaol...

It wasn't that Aelin desperately wanted to go alone. Rather, she had not wanted to go with Chaol, the awkwardness of their current situation too much to bear. She would have preferred to go with Ren, but the man had taken up the current shift stating that he would _prefer to not be in the presence of that bastard._

"Fine."

...

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	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a little long. It was supposed to be two chapters, but since it was the same plot point, I decided to just make it one large chapter instead. Anywaysss...this one took a while to write. I don't know if it was because there was no switching point of view, or because I actually planned out the chapter before writing it for once.**

 **ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE LOVELY SARAH J. MAAS**

...

"For the last time, Chaol," said Aelin through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to be recognised." And she wasn't. Aelin was a master of disguises-she had learnt from Arobynn long ago how to go unnoticed and how to blend into the background.

"You may have red hair, Aelin," began Chaol, sinking lower into the couch. He was getting frustrated-with this conversation and with the fact that _he_ was going to stay here with Ren, while Aelin walked head first into danger. Again.

"Auburn," Aelin cut in.

"You may have Auburn hair, Aelin, but you're still you. Even you can't change the way your face looks. The guards are on lookout for you, and they will kill you if they as much as catch a glimpse of you. And the gods help me, I can't let that happen-I won't let that happen. So I am worried about you Aelin, and I'm tired of you not letting me help."

"She'll be with me, Chaol," said Nesryn, the promise of violence in her voice. "They'll have to go through me first."

Aelin eyed Nesryn and Chaol with irritation, and then sighed, the visible tension in her face gone.

"You don't need to be worried about me, Chaol. I won't let them kill me, though the gods know, they're welcome to try."

* * *

Aelin got out of the non-descript carriage that dropped her and Nesryn off two streets away from the Assassin's Keep. The trick was not to be too non-descript-that would draw too much attention. Instead, Aelin was dressed in simple muted pants and a tunic-expensive and of fine enough make to draw attention, but not enough to keep it there. She was the queen hidden in plain sight-the perfect disguise.

Nesryn walked beside her, carefully watching their surroundings while appearing for all the world to be enjoying a walk with her friend. Aelin felt a hint of admiration for her, though she wouldn't ever admit it. Not when she didn't completely trust the woman.

They walked at a leisurely pace, talking about small, unimportant things as they passed the people, going about their day, unaware of the danger in their midst-the wolves amongst the sheep. Aelin caught a glimpse of the black clad royal guard, who looked her way, and dismissed her and Nesryn without a second glance. Aelin relaxed slightly, throwing a small smile towards Nesryn who was still watching the guards out of the corner of her eye, and inching her hands away from Goldryn, which was hidden amongst the folds of her cloak.

They stopped in front of the large, glamorous keep, the home of some of Erilea's deadliest assassins. Aelin took in the sight of the mansion, her once home, noting it's similarity to the Assassin's Keep from her memories.

"It's not what I expected," said Nesryn, breaking the silence between them.

"That's the point." Aelin threw back her shoulders, and walked towards the Keep's entrance. Well, there was no point in sneaking in-Arobynn was probably aware of her presence from the moment she and Nesryn had stepped out of their carriage. As expected, Tern was waiting when they reached the door.

"Hello Tern," said Aelin, flashing him a cool, dangerous smile. "You know, you should have given me at least a week to recover from seeing your ugly face."

Tern leaned towards her, dangerously close, close enough that one of the daggers strapped to her body could easily find a new home in his heart. Or stomach-that death was slower and much more gruesome, and Aelin hated him enough to let him die a bloody, messy death. "Who is the new bitch?"

Nesryn stiffened. "Call me a bitch again, and you'll find yourself without a mouth," she growled, her hands inching towards her blades.

"I know what you can do with your mouth." He made a particularly vulgar gesture, indicating his meaning.

Nesryn's daggers were out. She slashed for Tern's face, aiming for his bright, rutty smile. Tern met them with his own, his movements too graceful for one of his stature. Aelin watched, as Nesryn and Tern blocked and deflected each other's blows, their motions a violent, deadly dance. Nesryn sent a kick flying towards Tern's head, knocking his blades out of his hands along the way. The blades made a loud clank on the stone floor, and Nesryn kicked Tern's hands away from touching the rest of the blades on his body.

Growling, Tern reached out to grab Nesryn by the shoulder, effectively causing her to drop her daggers, throwing a series of punches towards her face. Nesryn deflected them easily, stepping out of his reach, and aiming a kick for his groin. Tern sidestepped the kick, and feint a punch to her ribs. She moved to block it, and copped a jab to the mouth. Nesryn could feel her lips start to swell, blood dripping from her lips, staining her lime green tunic.

Nesryn's blood boiled in her veins. She was going to kill him. How _dare_ the bastard make her bleed in front of her queen! Ignoring the pulsing pain from her mouth, Nesryn attacked his elbows, pulling him into her punch. She turned her body, the momentum gaining her the extra strength and smiled at his grimace.

Aelin sighed. This was not going as planned. They were supposed to get in _peacefully_ -the trouble was supposed to start when she saw Arobynn's face. How was she supposed to know that the rebel guard could not keep her temper in check? Well, Nesryn was a capable fighter. Aelin could use that. Aelin sent a dagger flying towards Tern's face, barely grazing his cheeks, the dagger finding its home in the Keep's door. Blood dripped from Tern's cheek, though the wound probably wouldn't scar. Shame.

Both Nesryn and Tern turned their anger towards her. "We're here to talk to Arobynn, not to grapple with the rabble," Aelin said sweetly, pushing past Tern, grabbing Nesryn by the arm.

"Now be a good dog and stay guard at the door. I wouldn't want anyone to attack us while we're having a nice conversation with Arobynn." Aelin flipped her collar-bone length auburn hair over her shoulder, and entered the Keep, not turning to see Tern's reaction.

Aelin reached inside the pocket of her pants and handed a handkerchief to Nesryn. "Here."

Nesryn stared at the handkerchief numbly. Was her queen angry, or indifferent? Did she care that Nesryn-her guard-just got punched in the face?

"Clean up," said Aelin, offering Nesryn a small smile. "You don't want to meet Arobynn Hamel looking like that."

"You're not angry with me?"

Aelin looked at Nesryn, puzzled. "Why would I be angry?"

"Because I got hit. I thought that you might think that I'm not a capable guard or something."

Aelin stared at Nesryn, noting the shame and sincerity in her expression, and laughed. "Tern is Arobynn's second in command, Nesryn. He's a capable fighter and assassin. If I were to be angry at anything, it would be at the fact that you started a fight in the first place." Aelin eyed Nesryn carefully.

"Oh."

Aelin could see the other assassins from the guild-disgusting, burly, ruddy men-watching her suspiciously, no doubt recognising her as Celaena Sardothian, Adarlan's Assassin, and Arobynn's former protégé. She wondered who Arobynn's protégé was now.

Aelin and Nesryn reached Arobynn's office at the end of the hall, and found Harding standing guard at the door. Aelin felt something twisting inside her stomach. It used to be Wesley who stood guard. Wesley, Arobynn's personal guard, someone she used to detest. Wesley, who had never been anything but stoic towards her and she had mistaken that for hatred. Wesley, who had tried to save her life but had ended up dead at Arobynn's hands, body left rotting for all to see.

"Hello Harding," said Aelin cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"

"I was wondering when you were going to show your face here again."

Aelin smiled. It was a vicious, calculating smile, full of promise. "I'm going to see Arobynn now."

"He's busy. You'll have to wait here."

Aelin gave him a scathing look, and pushed open the door to Arobynn's office.

Arobynn's office hadn't changed much in the two years that she'd been away. The carpet was still as red, his table still as glossy. Arobynn had added more books to his shelf, and a new couch, but it seemed that while the rest of the world had changed, the Assassin's Keep had remained constant, almost timeless.

Well, it seemed that Arobynn really was busy. He had a thin woman in a turquoise and black gown on his lap, her long black hair falling down her back in waves. They were kissing, and Arobynn's hands were on her breasts, hers in his hair.

Aelin almost looked away, but she realised that she shouldn't be the one feeling embarrassed. So Aelin walked up to them, leaving Nesryn standing guard at the door, and stopped in front of Arobynn's desk.

"Having fun?" she crooned, noting with extreme satisfaction the way the woman jumped out of Arobynn's lap. The woman straightened her gown and ran a hand through her hair. Aelin couldn't shake the feeling that she knew her.

The woman turned around, and her green eyes met Aelin's gold rimmed turquoise ones. Aelin froze in shock. It had been over two years since she had seen that face. Lysandra.

"Celaena," Lysandra whispered, eyes glazed in shock.

"Hello Lysandra," said Aelin. "Arobynn's still keeping you around, I see."

Arobynn cleared his throat. "Lysandra, darling," he said, laying a hand on Lysandra's slender arm. His eyes were on Aelin's. "Celaena and I need to have a chat."

Lysandra looked between Aelin and Arobynn, nodded her head, and left. Arobynn leaned back into his chair. "Hello darling. How does it feel to be home?"

Keep your anger in check, Aelin reminded herself. The last thing Aelin needed was to play into Arobynn's hands. "This isn't my home, Arobynn."

Arobynn studied her. "I see you've acquired yourself a new guard."

So they were playing this game, then. Arobynn wasn't going to help her until he felt like it. Until then, she was going to have to pretend to be friendly.

"She's not my guard. She's a friend."

"Ah yes. Also friends with the Captain of the Guard, I see. I heard rumours that the two of you were lovers. What would Sam say if he knew that you moved past him so easily?"

Aelin willed her fists not to clench, maintaining her mask of cool indifference. "That's none of your business, Arobynn."

Arobynn sighed dramatically. "It's been two years, Celaena. Is it wrong of me to want to get to know the woman that you've become?"

Aelin ignored his question. "You sent me a letter, saying that you want to start planning Aedion's rescue. So far, you haven't mentioned Aedion at all."

"Aedion is locked up in the glass castle's dungeon. It all depends if you want a dangerous rescue, or a dramatic one."

"Which one is the dangerous one?"

"Rescuing him now, before the execution."

"Funny. I would have thought the execution would be the dangerous one." A soft growl escaped from Aelin's lips.

"Think about it, darling. Right now, he's underground and surrounded by guards. You can't blend in, and you'll be walking into your enemy's home."

"I'll be doing that on the day of the execution too."

Arobynn shook his head. "There will be guards, true. But there will also be guests. It's the prince's birthday ball. You can dress up and disguise yourself amongst the other court women."

Aelin studied Arobynn. His silver eyes looked sincere, but he could be lying. Aelin didn't want to wait until the execution-that was two days away. But she knew that it was because she wanted Aedion by her side now. Rushing it, going in without thinking, that impulsivity could get her killed. She nodded.

"Are we going to sneak in?"

Arobynn shook his head. He reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out two invitations. "These are for you. They should get you into the ball, should you be in disguise."

Aelin took them, dropping them into her cloak pocket. Now for the second matter…

"I lost an amulet once, long ago. I don't suppose you know where it is?"

"What a drastic subject change, darling." A soft, sensual purr escaped from his lips.

"Just answer me, Arobynn."

"Just think about this for a moment, Celaena. Suppose I knew what amulet you're talking about, and believe me, I know you have many. What makes you think I'll just give it to you?"

A growl. A narrowing of the eyes. A tension in the shoulders. "Think of it as a favour, then." Aelin threw her hands in the air dramatically. "A token of good faith, as you put it."

"You already agreed to capture me a Valg. What more can you offer me?"

Aelin couldn't believe what she was about to do. If Rowan was here, he would probably kill her. It was stupid, and reckless, and would doubtlessly lead to her death. But she couldn't see another way out of this, and she needed the Amulet of Orynth, needed to get the Wyrdkey away from Arobynn.

"I offer you a place in my court."

If Arobynn was surprised by the offer, he didn't show it. He braced his forearms on the desk.

"And what would I gain from that? Correct me if I'm wrong, darling, but your court is non-existent. I would much rather stay here, maintain my position as the King of Assassins."

He was lying. Aelin knew Arobynn well enough to know that he was stalling, trying to work this to his advantage.

"What do you get out of it? What about not getting killed after I gain back my throne?" Lies, lies, all lies. She would kill him now, if she could.

"How could I believe you, Celaena? How can I know that you won't stab me in the back once Aedion is rescued?"

"I guess you will just have to wait and see."

Arobynn smiled, getting up from his chair. "Oh how I've missed you, Celaena. This Keep has been so lonely since you've been gone."

Aelin rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"Can I ask why you want this amulet back?"

"As long as you're happy if I don't answer."

"Come on, darling. You're getting it back anyway. What harm can it do to tell me?"

A lot of harm. Arobynn had one of the most powerful and dangerous weapons in the world in his possession, and he didn't even know it.

"I'm the Queen of Terrasen. I figured it would help persuade those who are still unsure of my identity if I wear the amulet of the Terrasen royal family."

It was a half-truth, she supposed.

Arobynn watched her for a moment longer. Then he sighed. He reached into the back of his desk drawer and brought out the Amulet of Orynth.

Aelin almost sighed in relief. Don't appear too eager, she told herself.

"Keep your promise, darling. I am so looking forward to seeing you again soon."

Aelin took the Wyrdkey, and put it around her neck. The amulet felt warm, like it was welcoming her back home.

"I'm sure," she purred. Aelin turned around to go, but she froze when she felt Arobynn's long callused fingers on her arm.

"Don't get yourself killed." He leaned in; close enough that his lips touched her ears. She could feel his warm breath caress her cheeks. "My queen." It was a soft, sensual whisper. Like that of a lover.

He kissed her cheek, lingering slightly, and Aelin wanted to rip his mouth off.

He stepped away, and returned to his desk.

Aelin walked towards the door, towards Nesryn who had watched the entire exchange with narrowed eyes.

"Let's go, Nesryn. We're done here."

...

 ** _Don't forget to review/fave/follow :)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**A special shout out to the Guest who pointed out that I spelt Rowan's mate Lydia instead of Lyria: no, it wasn't a typo. I legitimately thought that it was Lydia. Whooops. I read Heir of fire probably more than ten times, and every time I read Lydia. I do that with numbers too. I always swap numbers that are next to each other around, which sucks as I usually do that in my maths tests, and end up getting the answers wrong.**

 **Haha enough of my blabbing on for now, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. :D**

...

The King of Adarlan had to give credit to the little fae bitch. It had been weeks since his brilliant plan to capture Aelin Ashryver Galathynius-the girl who just couldn't stay dead-had been set into action. Oh, he had planned it just right. Weeks of careful manipulation, spying, and killing. He had expected the girl to have tried to rescue her useless cousin by now, expected to be torturing the bitch at this present moment.

The King licked his lips at the thought of pulling out her limbs one by one, at hearing the beautiful sound of her bones as they cracked under the force of his hands. It would be marvellous to see her break, to hear the sweet sound of her voice as she screamed, knowing that her death would be close, and yet just out of reach.

He twisted his black ring thoughtfully. He probably should just kill the Ashryver boy now, just to see the look on the vixen's eyes as she realised that she was just a little too late.

He looked down towards his sword. "What do you think, Nothung?"

As usual, the sword was a poor conversation partner. The King sighed. If only his champion was back from her mission in Wendlyn. Now that Perrington was gone, she was probably the only person that he could trust to do his dirty work.

Now that he was thinking about it, why wasn't his champion back? It had been _months_ since she had left for Wendlyn. The King of Adarlan had figured that the girl was hiding out after the assassination, but he had not heard any news. Problems, problems, problems.

He knew that she wouldn't dare run away, not when her precious captain would be-

The captain was a traitor. A bead of sweat ran down the King's forehead. He ignored it. This couldn't mean anything, could it? Now that the captain was gone, he didn't have anything to keep the bitch in line.

Oh, it had been a gamble making Celaena Sardothian his Champion. She was ruthless, bloodthirsty and unpredictable. In a way, that had made her the best choice. On the other hand…

The King of Adarlan gritted his teeth. A pale hand on his arm. A soft, sweet voice asking, "What is it, darling?"

He broke. The anger and the frustration built up over the last few weeks, the last few years, since his childhood, erupted from deep inside of him. His hands moved-to control, to silence, to release.

Georgina Havilliard sat on her throne, slowly sipping her wine. There were two more days until Dorian's twentieth birthday ball, and he still hadn't agreed on a young lady to be his escort. Georgina had spent her last few weeks researching and compiling a list of all the eligible maidens in Adarlan. She had sent them to Dorian's rooms after he had returned from the gods knew where.

So far, no reply. Not even a glimpse of him. Not since…that night, a few weeks ago. When the castle had shook, and Georgina had felt a wave of coldness and wrongness sweep over her. She didn't sleep that night-she couldn't. She knew that her husband had something to do with it-it was always him when something strange was happening. She didn't even know why she married him.

It had been years since they had last made love-if thrusting into a still, unmoving body could be called 'making love'. If the tears that had streamed down her face as he gripped her like a doll, going in roughly enough to rip her in half, could be called 'making love'. If the regret that had swept her body and soul as she realised that her love-her king-only thought of her as a figurehead-as someone to make him look good-could be called 'making love'.

In a way, she wasn't even an animal to him. She was the Queen of Adarlan, and she was worth less than the dirt beneath her husband's feet.

When she was young, she had dreamed of becoming Queen. Georgina smiled a small, sad, woeful smile. The days of going to court parties, of thinking up ways to manipulate the lords, of running around, thinking that the world was at her feet, were gone. Oh, how naïve she was.

And that day, Dorian, eyes cold and distant. Voice deeper and full of icy frost. Empty, and yet filled with something unknown. Georgina had feared her eldest son then. She was afraid of what her husband had done to him-afraid that Dorian, her beloved son, was gone forever.

He had spoken to her, unflinching and cruel, and she had run to her rooms, her face streaming with tears. She felt hurt, confused and lost. And the worst thing was that she had no-one. It was funny-so, so funny. There were so many court ladies, so terribly eager to please. Yet, when Georgina was drowning in her own sorrows, in her own miseries, she was so terribly alone.

She had almost laughed out loud, almost cried; almost shed the mask of the soft spoken and submissive court woman, when she remembered her husband sitting on the throne beside hers. Yes…they were in public. There were servants around her, rubbing her feet. There were the court ladies conversing in groups and with the occasional lord.

Georgina turned around to face her husband-the man she loved and yet hated with all her heart. His face was red and sweaty, his black ring glowing slightly, his hands tense, gripping the hilt of his sword. Georgina placed a hand on her husband's arm. Soft…comforting. "What is it, darling?"

It happened so fast. One moment it was there, the next her head was thrown against her throne. His veiny, large, callused hands on her neck, squeezing.

He felt his hands move towards his wife, smashing her tiny, dark head against her throne, squeezing out her pathetic life with a hand. He felt so powerful, so wonderful, so in control. Her normally pale face turned red, and then purple and the King of Adarlan grinned as her eyes rolled back.

He licked his lips. The look on a person's face in their last seconds of life, when they realised that it was over, it was priceless. How he loved that look.

Erinne looked up. Why was the whole throne room suddenly silent? Seria…she was never quiet. And then she saw. A woman on the floor, her face purple, blood running down her face. A dozen black clad guards, suddenly surrounding them. The look of raw fear and panic on her companions' faces.

Erinne gripped Seria's hand, lacing their fingers together. She knew that this was their last moment together-their last moment alive. Their heads leaned towards each other at the same time. Their lips met-for the first time and yet mounding together as though they were two pieces of a puzzle, the perfect fit. A sword sliced through skin and bone, severing their heads, together.

Thump, thump, thump. A room stained in blood.

The King of Adarlan smiled at the beautiful view. But somehow, the slaughter of those court fools had fuelled his anger. It was not his fault that these people were dead at his feet. No, it was that of his champion, who had disobeyed him.

His champion, who had not returned. His champion, who probably hadn't killed the Wendlyn royal family. His champion, who was cleverer than any woman had a right to be.

Oh, when she returned, he would drink the marrow from her bones. He would pull out her golden hair, strand by strand. He would rip out her turquoise eyes, and suck them dry. Turquoise?

Her eyes, so, so familiar. She had always kept them adverted. He had always assumed that it was due to her strange twisted sense of respect, or even an ounce of fear. And yet that one day…the image was forever burnt into his memories. How did he not notice? Turquoise eyes, rimmed in gold. Just like…just like…just like…

The King of Adarlan rose from his throne, his body soaked in blood. "Guards. Call for my Wing leader."

Oh, they had all been played for fools.

How fitting would it be, for the daughter of Terrasen to be killed by a son of Adarlan? The King knew that they were friends. The King of Adarlan laughed. It was a cruel, inhuman sound.

How perfect. How could Celaena-Aelin-the fire breathing bitch queen, kill her dear, beloved friend?

The King laughed again, the sounds echoing around the room. "Oh, and call for my son. I think that it would be a fitting birthday gift for him to be Aedion Ashryver's executioner."

* * *

Nesryn was fuming. How dare Arobynn Hamel speak to her queen in that manner? It was disrespectful, and Nesryn had to physically restrain herself from pommelling the bastard's face in. She had to keep reminding herself that Arobynn Hamel was the King of Assassins, and that he would probably beat her even on a good day.

Nesryn glanced sideways at Aelin. Her queen was clutching her amulet, and had a distant look in her eyes.

It had been so long since she had held a piece of Terrasen in her hands. Eleven years. Her parents…Lady Marion…her childhood… All dead…all gone.

Aelin shook her head and lifter her chin towards the roof of the Keep, towards the sky. Their deaths would not be in vain. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and she would see this world rebuilt.

Tern ignored them on their way out, his face set in a stony cold mask. Aelin would have thought that he had forgotten about the earlier _incident_ , if it weren't for the murderous glint in his eyes.

Aelin and Nesryn were both quiet on their way back to their carriage. Aelin could sense Nesryn's anger-not directed at her, but at the world-and decided not to bother her with conversation. Now that Aelin had the Wyrdkey, another piece fell into place. Another step in her plans-once seemingly impossible-had worked out, and now the King of Adarlan didn't seem nearly as invincible.

Aelin froze as a cold hand touched her shoulder. In a flash, Aelin had her daggers out, and had pinned the stranger against the wall, dagger against throat. The girl-woman-let out a strangled gasp, and Aelin caught sight of the face underneath the black cloak.

"Lysandra," Aelin breathed, relaxing her grip on her daggers slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Lysandra looked at Celaena, her once enemy. They were both so young once, at each other's throats, and constantly trying to outdo one another. And then Celaena had left-sent to become a slave in Endovier-and Lysandra had remained. Pampered, proud and so, so naïve. She had become a property of Arobynn Hamel-a caged animal, unable to break free.

"Celaena. I followed…I had to talk to you. It has been so long."

The years had changed Lysandra. She looked older, more worn. A bit frayed around the edges. Aelin glanced at Nesryn, who still watched Lysandra with a predatory eye, daggers out and body tense.

Aelin shook her head slightly, and Nesryn lowered her daggers, shooting warning glances towards the people who had stopped to stare at the three of them. They hurried off, sneaking glimpses over their shoulders as they hastily continued on their way.

"Who is this?" asked Nesryn, as soon as they were out of earshot. If the woman was dangerous…she would be dead before she could utter another word.

"Lysandra is…a friend." Aelin hesitated before asking, "Are you busy right now? We could have luncheon, or something."

"Are you sure that's safe, Ae-," Nesryn cut off as Aelin shot her a warning look.

"Come over to my apartment. I'm sure that we'll have a lot to talk about."

Celaena had changed. The old Celaena, who had always given her spiteful glares and ignored her, was gone. Celaena, Arobynn Hamel's protégé, Adarlan's Assassin, actually sounded genuinely interested in talking to Lysandra for once. "Sure."

The ride back to the apartment was interesting, to say the least. Nesryn had sat alone, facing Lysandra and Aelin, who looked like they were having an intimate conversation. Nesryn tried to drown them out, to give them some semblance privacy. It was an important skill that every bodyguard learnt. How to listen, without actually listening. Nesryn had mastered it years ago.

"How have you been, Lysandra?" asked Aelin, as soon as they entered the carriage.

"I'm so sorry, Celaena. I'm so, so sorry."

Aelin looked at Lysandra quizzically. "What are you sorry for?"

Lysandra looked away, her nails digging into her palms. Her cheeks heated, reflecting the shame that she had carried these last few years. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. For what Arobynn and I did to you."

"You'll have to elaborate. I can think of many things…"

"For the money. I know how much it meant to you. I'm sorry that Arobynn spent it all on my bidding."

"Gods, Lysandra. It wasn't your fault. Arobynn did it to spite me because I chose Sam over him."

"But I enjoyed it. I remember rubbing it into your face afterwards."

Aelin shook her head slowly. "That was ages ago. Forget about it."

"You know what's funny, Celaena? I can still remember why I did it. Why I was so spiteful." Lysandra let out a short, sharp laugh. "I liked you. I really wanted to be friends, you know? And every time I tried to be nice, you ignored me. So I acted like a bitch, hell, I threw myself all over Sam, just to get a reaction from you. Gods, I was so, so lonely."

Aelin regarded Lysandra with shock. If she had known… Celaena Sardothian still wouldn't have cared. "Why did you stay with Arobynn, Lysandra? After everything…why didn't you just leave?"

"I couldn't. Once Arobynn owned you…there's no place you can run. You should know that better than anyone."

And she did. Half of Aelin's life was a testimony to that fact. Aelin smiled a small, amused smile. "Well, my money had better not been spent in vain. Tell me, how enjoyable was your first time?"

Lysandra laughed. "As much as I hate Arobynn, I have to say…Arobynn is a very skilled man. Especially in the bedroom."

Aelin let out a shriek. "Don't tell me that! Urgh, now I have a very disturbing image in my head."

"And he has a very nice ass. Even better than Sam's. And his abs…damn, they're so chiselled."

Aelin covered her ears. She _did not_ want to hear any of this. "Are you done describing Arobynn's ass? Because I think that I need to puke."

Lysandra grinned at Celaena's tormented expression. "What? You asked."

Aelin returned Lysandra's grin, and took Lysandra's hands in her own. Out of all the people that Aelin expected to befriend, Lysandra was not at the top of that list. If Aelin was completely honest with herself, Lysandra probably wasn't even the last entry on that list.

And yet, here they were.

* * *

Chaol had been pacing around the apartment ever since Aelin and Nesryn had left to meet Arobynn Hamel. He held the Eye of Elena in his hands, his gift from Aelin. The amethyst ring…he had it hidden away, it's presence a constant reminder of his loss.

Why were they taking so damned long? It had been nearly _three_ hours, and Chaol had jumped at each sound coming from outside the apartment, desperately hoping that it would be her.

He knew, logically, that they were fine. But Chaol couldn't shake the irrational feeling from deep inside his chest that told him that something had gone wrong. Aelin had been kidnapped, or the Assassin's Keep had burnt down, leaving Aelin and Nesryn unable to locate Arobynn. Aelin can take care of herself, Chaol reminded himself. They both will be fine.

And yet, what if he was wrong? What if Arobynn Hamel had overpowered both Aelin and Nesryn, and had both of them tied up in his rooms? What if…

Chaol gave himself a mental slap. There was no point in worrying now. He just had to wait, and hope that they were fine.

Pocketing the Eye of Elena, Chaol decided to go outside and see if Ren had any updates on Aelin. Ren was hiding behind a wooden sheet, his keen eyes on his surroundings.

"Back again, Chaol? You know, I can't stand guard if you constantly give away my spying location."

Chaol rolled his eyes. "I can help you keep watch, you know."

"No, you just want to see Aelin when she returns."

Chaol tried to protest, but it was useless. "Am I really that transparent?"

"Yes."

Chaol didn't reply, just stared at all the other apartments and shops on the street.

"You should move on, Chaol. It's unhealthy, pining over a girl that you know you can't have."

"I'm not pining."

Now it was Ren's turn to roll his eyes. "Chaol, you are the definition of pining."

Chaol looked away. "I can't move on. Aelin…I still love her. I can't throw that away so easily, no matter how desperately I want to."

"Look…I know that my advice is probably useless as I've never been in love. But Chaol, you don't want to still be in love with her ten years down the track, when she is married to another man."

"I just need time, Ren. Time heals all wounds, as they say."

"Well, I can't give you time, but can I offer you something else?"

"What?"

"Nesryn is quite pretty. And available, I'm sure."

Chaol rolled his eyes. "That's probably because she would break a man's arm off if he as much as looked too long in her direction."

"See, a great fit."

Chaol groaned. "If you think that she's pretty, why don't you court her?"

"Because I'm not interested in love." Ren gave Chaol a look that said, duh.

They both looked up as a carriage pulled up in front of the apartment. Three gorgeous women stepped out.

Ren gaped as a dark haired beauty got out of the carriage after Aelin. She didn't look familiar. Who _was_ she? Ren realised that his mouth was hanging open when he caught the beauty staring at him, a look of disgust on her face.

"Who's the moron, Celaena? Hey idiot, close your mouth, or your insides will fall out." Aelin and the woman laughed, linking arms as they walked towards the apartment. Nesryn followed them, two steps behind.

Chaol smirked at Ren. "Not interested in romance, huh?"

"Shut up."

...

 _ **P.S. I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to update-I've been having the worst case of writers block. D; I've just been staring at a blank screen for almost four days. And yet, this is probably going to be the last fast update, as term break finishes this week. Since this is my final year, I'm probably going to be studying(lmao), and so less time will probably be spent actually writing. Anyways…don't forget to review/fave/follow :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to write, and that it's so short! I tried writing it so many times, but I just couldn't get the characteristics right, so I kept putting it off and writing one-shots. Oh, and I read all the Queen of Shadows spoilers and leaked pages, and now I'm finding it extremely hard to write this without spoiling you guys. Anyways, most of this was written before I was spoiled, so this shouldn't spoil anything about Queen of Shadows.**

 **Anyways, enjoy!**

Ren trailed after the women, a million questions running through his mind. Who was the woman? Was she an ally? A friend of Aelin's perhaps? A rebel?

And a question that Ren shoved out of his head as soon as it entered. Was she available? Ren almost laughed at his stupidity. What would a beautiful, graceful and worldly woman want with someone like him? He was a scarred reminder of Terrasen's loss, a man well acquainted with death and destruction.

And no woman-or man, for that matter-had ever looked at Ren the way Chaol had looked at Aelin, with obvious love and adoration in his eyes. They had never looked at him with hope and such strong and overpowering emotions. They only saw his scars, the hardness of his jaw, his stiff stature and knew to stay well away.

In a way, Ren was glad that no-one had looked his way. Growing up with the rebels left no time for romance. And anyone he loved would have been used as a weapon against him.

Hearing a tinkling laugh, Ren looked up and caught the deep emerald-green eyes of the woman, a sea so bright, full of mystery and excitement. Feeling his heartbeat speed up, Ren schooled his features into neutrality, fighting the blush that threatened to form on his cheeks.

Control yourself, Ren scolded himself. He didn't even know her. And yet, after looking into her eyes, so genuine and full of kindness, Ren realised that he could spend the rest of his life getting to know her. He felt like he was under a magical spell, and she, the fae queen controlling him.

"Shit, Celaena. Why does that boy keep staring at me? What's his problem?"

That spell broke.

* * *

The King of Adarlan prowled around his throne room, its vicinities empty of people and guards. He needed to think, to consider. Now that some time had passed, he regretted his earlier brashness. Not the killing of the people, but he regretted the aftermath.

He had never loved his wife, or even taken a caring towards her, but she was well liked by the people of Adarlan. The King of Adarlan let out a loud annoyed sigh.

How in Erilea was he going to cover this up? Drawing Nothung, the King weighed it in his hands. The metal blade, scratched and rough from years of use, stared back at him. Nothung-that which will save him in a time of need. He supposed that the sword had done its job, though it could not help him now.

Nothing could help him now-except for his power, his influence and his title. What did he care? He was the King of Adarlan, and he would not need any excuses for his actions. A slow smile creeped up his lips, his eyes crinkled slightly at the amusement that was now churning inside his body.

He killed his wife, and he didn't care. But he needed a new one.

Honestly, he would never marry one of those stupid court buffoons, simply because she wouldn't last a night in his company. No. He needed someone strong and vicious by his side, but still under his influence-his power. He knew one such woman. One witch.

Well...considering that the Wing Leader was coming to help kill that fire-breathing-bitch, wouldn't it also be lovely that she gained a _husband_ along the way?

* * *

Rowan had never wanted to strangle someone as badly as he wanted to strangle Luca. Gods, was he this annoying at sixteen? "Luca," he managed to ground out. "We just stopped for a break an hour ago. You do not need to eat every single hour."

Luca shrugged his shoulders, giving Rowan a tired, easy grin. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a tiger. Or maybe a hawk would do." Mikhail choked on a laugh, his broad shoulders shaking. Rowan shot them both a glare, wishing that he could just shift into his hawk form and fly straight to Varese.

It would be faster than travelling by horse-and he wouldn't have to put up with Luca's constant whining and chatter. But he needed to be here, needed to protect this small family of demi-Fae. Because, whether he liked it or not, they had become important to him, and the gods knew, Aelin would set him on fire if he allowed anything to happen to them.

"Aren't the young meant to be full of energy?" frowned Emrys, wiping off sweat from his forehead with his worn and fraying sleeve. He and Mikhail rode side by side, preferring to trail behind, while Rowan and Luca rode up in front, their first line of defence.

The two older demi-Fae had kept up well-surprisingly well, considering their bodies were older and more prone to weakness. And Luca, who had already made this trek just a few days earlier, was the one struggling. Figures.

"I'm a growing boy! I need food, or else I'm going to collapse." Luca gave Rowan a pointed grin. "And then we'll never get to Varese."

"What do I need to sacrifice to get you to shut up," muttered Rowan under his breath. He needed to get to Varese as hastily as possible. He didn't know when Aelin would call for him again, but he needed to be ready when the time came.

Gods, he wasn't used to this-waiting on someone else's whims. Before Aelin, before his promise to her, he would have taken control of the situation. He probably would've just stalked into Adarlan, pointy ears and canines exposed. Oh, that would be quite a sight-a full blooded Fae warrior prowling the mortal streets, damning the consequences and the repercussions.

Rowan could just imagine the look on all of their faces. Soon, he promised himself, the mortals, and the world. He would be by Aelin, his queen, his _carranam's_ side soon.

"I think I spotted a mountain goat amongst those trees," said Luca, pointing to a completely random cluster of pine trees, where there obviously wasn't a goat present.

"Rowan…You're so big and muscular," Luca continued, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Can you go and hunt that big, dangerous, scary goat for me?"

Rowan had to physically restrain himself from punching the boy off his horse. Emrys rolled his eyes, but didn't reprimand him. Fool. If Luca got a concussion or worse, a series of broken bones, it would not be Rowan's fault.

Gritting his teeth, Rowan reached for his worn leather saddle bag that was attached to the side of his horse, feeling inside for anything that resembled food in any way, shape or form. His hands brushed something dry and long.

"Eat one of the pre-packaged foods, then," Rowan growled, tossing one of the dehydrated meat sticks at Luca's face. Luca frowned as the meat stick hit his cheek, and fell onto the wet, muddy ground.

"I'm not eating that. It's contaminated."

"Eat it or not, that's your choice. I'm not hunting another goat for you." Rowan ignored Luca's protests as he prodded his powerful black mare ahead of the group.

Rowan didn't look back as Luca dismounted his pale grey stallion and picked up the meat stick with a look of disgust on his face.

He didn't see Luca brush off the dirt on his clothing, the wet brown dirt staining his mossy green shirt.

He didn't see Luca take a bite of the meat stick, a slight grimace on his face.

And he didn't see the pale shadow of a man approach Luca and the two older demi-Fae trailing behind Rowan.

However, he did notice the sudden scream, the series of muffled breaths and the onset of the unnatural silence.

All of this happened in a fraction of a second and in the time that it took Rowan to unsheathe his blades, dismount his mare and face the direction of the demi-Fae; Rowan was alone in an empty forest.

 **Don't forget to review/fave/follow :)**


	7. Chapter 7

I'm so sorry that it's taken months for me to update (and that this is so short). I'm having some trouble with some storylines and characters, but hopefully I can get on top of that soon. This was supposed to be the start of a longer chapter (which I've had lying around for months) but since I haven't really progressed much, I might as well upload it. Anyways, enjoy.

...

Entering Celaena's apartment for the first time felt like a blessing, and a curse. She felt like she was intruding in something personal, like she was seeing something private-something she wasn't supposed to. And this apartment had been Sam's too. Sam, who no longer had a heartbeat; no longer had a life. And though he never truly cared for her, and though she never truly cared for him, she wished with every inch of her heart that he would find closure; that he would be avenged.

Lysandra wished that Celaena would find it within herself to kill Arobynn. To mar his cruel face, and to destroy his fickle soul. Once, she had believed that Arobynn was soulless, for how a man like that could possess something as pure as a soul was beyond her. Now she knew better. Souls weren't magical, fluffy, heaven-sent things. No. They were dark and gritty. They reminded you that you were _alive_ , no matter how hard you tried to think otherwise. They reminded you that you hurt, that you were lost, that you can suffer. And they taught you to lie, because how could you bring that same suffering upon someone else?

And so she had lied. She had smiled, and laughed. She had painted on happiness with her mouth and teeth. She had told Celaena that she had enjoyed Arobynn, had found him attractive. Because that was what she wanted to hear. Not the truth, where Arobynn had taken her by the hair, and slammed her onto the bed.

That he had been rough, and her tears had been his prize. He did not hold her afterwards, did not stroke her hair, did not tell her that he loved her. He did not say sorry, or whisper words of encouragement. She didn't expect it. She had grown up knowing that she would have to spend her entire life (or until she eventually paid off Clarisse) selling herself out to people like Arobynn. But the reality…that was even worse than the anticipation.

That she felt broken, had felt like a puppet on strings, had felt like a toy. But he had been cautious, and cunning even on the edge of climax. He knew how to hurt her, hurt her in a way that would not leave bruises. So when she awoke, her body was not the canvas of blues and blacks that she was expecting. No. The only pain was the faint reminder of where Arobynn had been last night. And the nights after. All the pain had been inside. And so she had become an actress.

Especially when it became routine, and the training kicked in, and she pretended that she was a theatre putting on its best play.

What did it matter anyway? She would return to Arobynn's side, and Celaena would go her merry way, oblivious. It was better that way.

She still hoped, though, that Celaena would do it. Lysandra could feel Celaena's eyes on her back as she walked around, her hands trailing on every surface. She wanted to breathe in every inch of dust, every scent of perfume. Anything to take over the scent of the keep; anything that would remind her of a happier place. Of a place that she could once, maybe, call home.

"What do you think?" Aelin asked after a few minutes of silence, and Lysandra looked up; up into those deep turquoise eyes.

"It's spacious," Lysandra said, a smile forming on her lips. "And you have so much stuff."

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You mean the stuff I _took_ the keep. I paid good money for that, as you should know."

Oh didn't she know. She paid the price for Arobynn's lavish spendings. At least Madame Clarisse was pleased with her. At least that was something.

Aelin studied Lysandra's features curiously. She noted how the courtesan had her hands on the table-not resting per se, but almost as if she were clutching the air above it, using that to somehow hold onto that table forever.

But her smile, oh that seemed genuine. In fact, this was the most open Aelin had ever seen Lysandra. She thought it strange that during all those years at the keep, she had never been able to see Lysandra; that it took a chance meeting years later for her to figure it out.

"You could stay here, you know," Aelin whispered, bringing a hand to rest on Lysandra's. "Imagine it, a life away from Arobynn, just you and me."

Lysandra burst out laughing; the sound like soft tinkering bells. "That's the dream, Celaena. But you and I both know that we'd both be dead long before I can actually move in with you and your men."

"They're not _my_ men," Aelin said, feeling the need to emphasise to Lysandra, who probably knew that she and Chaol had been involved. "And besides, Ren couldn't keep his eyes off you this whole time. I don't think he's _my_ man."

Lysandra shoved her, and Aelin caught her hand, laughing.

"Wait, which one is Ren again?"

Aelin rolled her eyes, her eyes flickering to Ren whose eyes were glued on her companion's emerald green eyes, pink tinging his cheeks. _Honestly._

It seemed Lysandra had finally noticed too. "Shit, Celaena," she cursed. "Why does that boy keep staring at me?"

Aelin laughed. "That's Ren. I think he fancies courting you or something."

At Lysandra's shocked expression, Aelin's face sombered. "I'll talk to him."

"No," Lysandra muttered, her eyes finding Aelin's again. They held. "I'll do it myself."


End file.
